


My Lady's Wishes

by catlinyemaker



Series: Lady Luck Smile on Me [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, First Time, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:04:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catlinyemaker/pseuds/catlinyemaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corso drives his captain crazy, and she returns the favor.  She's all about taking care of herself (well, that and having a good time.)  He's all about taking care of her.  Can a jaded flirt find common ground with her white knight?  [Minor spoilers for the Smuggler class.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nope, not going there

Nar Shadaa. Fleshpots, freetraders, and the best black market in the galaxy. After Balmorra, they really needed a rest and refit stop. Tomorrow was the big shopping day; arms and armor for the crew and the good ship Cayuse both. Neysha had a Republic credit chit in her pocket and she wasn’t afraid to use it. _‘Privateer,’_ she chortled to herself. She’d looked the term up after the letter of marque had arrived, gaudy and old-fashioned with the embossed holographic seal of the Republic flashing from the page. The thought made her grin. License to steal, was what it amounted to. The Republic chit would go a lot farther here – and if she played her cards right, there might be some ship upgrades available that weren’t exactly on the approved list.

Neysha finished her shopping list and leaned back on the couch, bending her head from side to side to work the kinks out of her neck. Corso was the only one in the lounge with her tonight; the other crewfolk had taken off as soon as they hit dirt. Catching up with old friends, they’d all said, and she wasn’t about to examine that statement too closely with any of them. He was totally engrossed in his work; she watched him covertly from under lowered lashes.

He had the portable workbench setup in the lounge (“More companionable, Captain,” he’d said) and was cleaning the blasters, his focus entirely on the intricate mechanism in his big hands, carefully easing a power crystal from its mount. He never let her clean her own guns anymore, just said it was his job and laid them out with his and did them all at once. She wasn’t sorry; they’d never been better maintained and he was constantly tinkering with them, so they’d never been better period.

Good lord he was handsome. And totally unaware of it too, which was even better. She saw the looks he got when they were in town or on the station decks, but he strode right along, oblivious to the feminine fluttering (and some masculine sighs as well) in his wake.

The faint lines of scars on his tanned face just enhanced his good looks, elevating them out of the ordinary. She had even become accustomed to his dreads; they were the perfect complement to his face, couldn’t imagine him any other way. He was wearing the usual shipboard stuff, a little older and more worn than normal because of the dirty chore: a formerly white knit shirt, tight across the shoulders and torn at the neck, and a pair of baggy cargo pants, pockets stuffed with microtools and memory chips. That shirt was flattering, snug as it was, but really he’d be better without it. Maybe she’d dial the shipboard temp up ten degrees one of these days and see what happened.

Oh boy, she had it bad. Trouble was, he was waay too young for her. Oh, sure, calendar-wise they were maybe three-four years apart. But he was still so damned green! Clearly, joining up with the local militia as a teen didn’t give you the same chances for growing up as what she’d had to... _‘No. Nope, not going there.’_

Neysha had given up on the whole fairytale romance thing years and years ago. It didn’t exist. It made her flinch every time he looked at her with those big brown eyes and earnestly said “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again, Captain.” _‘No! Corso, you don’t get it. You’re YEARS too late for that. And I can take care of myself, dammit!_ ’ She never said precisely that, but it was going to come out one of these days. Then he’d look hurt, or misunderstand and press more gentle caring concern on her. Gack! Or maybe they’d fight. She wondered idly if you could have make-up sex if you never had make-out sex yet.

The sexiest thing she’d seen in a good long while was one night when he’d gotten ‘tipsy’ as he called it _‘suure, whatever you say, Corso’_ and made a pass at her: strong, assured, and just smoking hot. She’d nearly screamed in frustration when he’d backed away just as she was about to signal her consent with an enthusiastic liplock.

“You deserve to be treated like a lady, not like some Hutt’s dancer.” Dammit, dammit, dammit. She hadn’t been a lady ever, not really. Certainly wasn’t one now. And then just recently he’d asked her permission to court her. They didn’t still do that, did they? They certainly didn’t where she was from, not even when she’d been... _‘Aand we’re REALLY NOT going there, goddammit!’_

She rose with a snarl and slammed the datapad down on the table. Corso jumped at the sudden noise, and the spring he’d been fussing with shot off its spine and disappeared into the couch cushions. 

“Find it yourself!” she snapped, and stormed from the room. 

(Corso couldn’t fathom what had his captain so riled up. She’d been working quietly on her datapad and then wham! The pad hit the table and she was gone. He sighed and reached into the tool bag for the little magnet probe. If he was real lucky, that spring would be ferrous and easy to find. His rummaging stopped abruptly as he caught the beep and whoosh of the opening airlock. Corso looked at the weapons on the bench in shock - _‘she wouldn’t!’_ he thought. He grabbed his rifle and her offhand blaster, blessed the training that dictated he only disable one gun at a time, and left the lounge at a run.)

The airlock cycled and she slid through as soon as it opened wide enough to admit her slender frame. It would close behind her, it always did. She was halfway down the walkway when she heard Corso bellow. 

“Captain!”

_‘No, no, no, not now.’_ He’d catch her if she waited for the landing bay elevator. She darted through the barricades and around the lumbering cargo loaders instead. Five, six, seven panels, there it was, maintenance access. Now to hope they hadn’t changed the release codes. Four quick presses later, she was through. Seducing the portmaster’s assistant last year came in handy yet again. She grinned, listening to the banging on the panel behind her.

Time for a night out on the town; take her mind off her troubles, that would be just the ticket. Credits, check, comm link, check, blasters… whoops.

_‘Not to worry.’_ She reached into her anklet for the little holdout gun and slipped it into a vest pocket. _‘Have to stick to the safer side tonight, that’s all.’_ That meant the Promenade; maybe she could find a nice friendly game of sabaac on one of those floating party barges. Her comm started buzzing in her pocket. She fished it out and looked at the readout; nobody she wanted to talk to tonight. Thumbing it to silence, she put it back into her pocket and sauntered off, whistling.


	2. Don't fence me in

It took Corso a moment to realize that she really was running from him, and then he lost precious seconds clearing the cargo haulers she’d slipped past with ease. He was just in time to see her disappearing through a maintenance hatch, but when he came pounding up the panel was closed and locked. Corso knew she was on the other side, probably laughing at him. He banged on the panel until station security showed up and politely ‘suggested’ he go back to his ship.

All he could think about was Darmas’ warning: “…you’ll never catch her, not ever.” She wasn’t answering her comm, she wasn’t armed, and Nar Shadaa wasn’t safe. Corso couldn’t imagine what had happened to set her off, but when she got back he was going to kill her. Assuming some Nar Shadaa lowlife didn’t do it for him first.

Finding the spring (not ferrous after all) and cleaning the rest of the blasters kept him occupied for a while. After an hour or so he stopped trying her comm. Working out the glitches in the new sight for his rifle didn’t go so well as a distraction; he barked his knuckles twice and lost a screw to the damned carpet before giving up. And after that he just sat and worried. He must have fallen asleep on the couch at some point; the familiar beep and swoosh woke him and he sat up blearily.

“Oh give me land, lots of land under starry skies above, don’t fence me in! Let me ride through the wide open country that I love, don't fence me in…”

The singing was cheerful, off-key and familiar; that was definitely the captain coming back. He ran his hands over his face and stood up just as she came into the lounge. She looked him up and down and gave him a sly little grin, walked right over, stopped a foot away and looked up into his face. From that close he could smell the bourbon on her breath.

“Hey, Corso, how you doing! You didn’t have to wait up for me!”

“Yes, yes I did.” He’d thought long and hard about what he wanted to say to her if and when she came back. Every word just slipped right out of his mind as he grabbed her un-gently by the shoulders.

“What the HELL were you thinking!” Each phrase was punctuated with a little shake. At first she went loosely with the motion but as he kept yelling and shaking she stiffened under his hands. “YOU LEFT THE SHIP UNARMED! This is NAR SHADAA! You could have…” She twisted abruptly, slipping out of his grasp. He didn’t see her hands move but suddenly there was a tiny blaster in one of them and she fired quick as thought and BANG blew a good sized hole right through the couch.

“I can fucking well take care of myself, Corso,” she snarled, low and dangerous. Then her voice rose to a shout. “STOP treating me like I’m HELPLESS!” 

The blaster started to come up in his direction and he felt an instant’s fear. Neysha saw his face and looked down to see what her hand was doing. Immediately she dropped her aim to the couch and thumbed the safety on before setting the gun down with exaggerated care. Then she swung at him. Even tipsy she packed a good punch; it rocked him back on his heels and he grabbed her arms to keep her from hitting him again.

“I’m NOT treating you like you’re helpless! I WAS WORRIED!” Corso started to shake as the adrenalin hit him all at once. Oh god she was safe and she’d come back she was safe and home she was home now. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. Somehow his hands had gone from her arms to her back and he was holding her tight, wrapping his arms around her. And she tilted her face up to his and her lips were so soft.

She made a tiny noise of complaint and he loosened his grip. Still held in the circle of his arms, she inhaled deeply and kissed him again, his mouth opening to her questing tongue. Her arms came up to wrap around his neck, one hand going to the tie in his hair and pulling it off. His dreads fell free and she ran her fingers through them, bringing them forward to frame his face before cradling his face for another deep kiss. 

Her clever hands slid down to the neckline of his shirt, finding the rip and tugging, widening it until she exposed his collarbone and fastened her mouth right at the junction of neck and shoulder, biting lightly and sucking at the sensitive skin there. His knees almost buckled and she took advantage of the movement to push him off balance onto the undamaged section of the couch, straddling his thighs and finishing the destruction of his shirt, opening the torn halves to reveal his muscular chest and taut stomach as he leaned back on the cushions, defenseless before her admiring gaze.

“God, Corso,” she breathed. He couldn’t agree more, especially when she reached down and yanked her own shirt and vest off in one smooth motion, pulling them inside out and throwing them behind her. Her skin was ivory in the dim late-night lighting, rosy nipples tight on full breasts. His hands came up to cup them, thumbs rubbing circles over her nipples, making her gasp and sway forward, eagerly reaching for his belt buckle.

“Neysha... Neysha wait, listen.” His hands left her breasts and settled on her fingers, stilling them. She looked up at his face, puzzled. He could feel a fierce blush spread over his cheekbones. “I have to tell you… I’ve never…”

She quirked an eyebrow at him but didn’t laugh, thank god. “Really? You’re a great kisser.”

“We did _that_ ,” he said, half offended that she’d think he was that naïve, half pleased at the compliment. “Just not, you know. All the way.”

“Never?”

“Well, once with a prostitute on Ord Mantell; my squadmates said it wasn’t right. Going into battle a virgin. But I don’t remember much, they got me pretty drunk first…”

Neysha studied him for a second, then bent down and kissed him again. “Oh, Corso, we are going to have so much fun…” She slid off his lap and stood, holding out her hands to him. He took them and she tugged him up off the couch. “C’mon, loverboy. Let’s get more comfortable.” Holding tight to one hand she towed him into her stateroom and kicked the door shut behind them.


	3. Just sex, that's all

(…Never… Well, a whole lot of things made a whole lot more sense now. Neysha was pretty sure all the women on his home planet were stupid or blind or both. Of course he’d been a sergeant in the army until just before she’d met him – running and shooting nonstop, as he put it. She granted the women of Ord Mantell provisional intelligence, since he probably hadn’t met many of them.)

Corso let her position him where she seemed to want him, standing next to her big bed. She reached up and slipped the remains of his shirt from his shoulders. He tugged the shirt the rest of the way off and let it fall to the floor. While he was engaged with that, she quickly peeled out of her pants and boots, kicking them aside before putting her arms around him again. Bare skin to bare skin, she moved against his chest. He was hyper-aware of every point of contact. His breath caught, and she smiled against his neck.

“No escaping me now, farmboy. I have you in my lair,” she whispered.

“No intention of escaping, Captain,” he managed, rough and low.

She undid that damned buckle finally, and the buttons below it. His pants settled around his hips and she slid her hands under the waistband of his underwear and pushed pants and all down his legs. His prick sprang free. She made a little pleased humming noise, at least he hoped it was pleased, and reached down to grip and stroke him, one hand cupping his balls. He gasped and twitched with the petting; he was close to coming, way too close. 

“Shh, we have all the time in the world. Let’s just take the edge off, here.” She nudged him gently backwards to sit and then lie back on the bed, then knelt between his thighs, leaning forward to kiss his stomach and move slowly further down. Her mouth on him was more than he’d dreamed, more than he could stand. She ran her lips from head to base and back again before taking him fully into her mouth, her lips moving down his shaft, velvet and warm and... _‘Oh god!’_ wonderful… He came with a rush, back arching with the force of it as she hummed around him.

She didn’t stop at once, which surprised him; she slowed down but kept on going right through the aftershocks, until he shuddered and laughed and nudged her away: “too much!”

Then she slid up to lie next to him as his heart settled into a more normal rhythm. “My turn, now,” she said, tugging him over onto his side to face her, taking his hand and drawing it toward her breasts. He reached out, fingertips just brushing soft pale skin, following the line of her collarbone up to the point of her shoulder.

“If you don’t mind, Captain, I’d like to explore a bit, since we have time,” Corso ventured, tracing small circles on her shoulder with his fingers. “I’ve read the instructions, as it were, like to field test.” 

She nodded agreement and laid back, open and trusting. Waiting.

He took a deep breath. “Can’t be any harder than modding an XK1911 blaster without the manual,” he muttered. 

She caught that and laughed. “Easier, Corso, women are easier. Looser tolerances, better feedback.”

“Feedback, that’s what I’m after. Let me know where I’m going wrong.”

“I’ll do that, sure, but… Umm, more like I’ll let you know what you’re doing right.” Now it was her turn to blush, rich pink staining her cheeks. “Listen, I get loud, sometimes. Loud is good... really good. I… I don’t want you to be surprised. Or, or startled or think that you’re hurting me or anything.”

Corso couldn’t help but smile as she fumbled her way through the explanation, entranced by his bold captain embarrassed here and now, considering what they were up to. “Loud is good, got it,” he said with a grin. She grinned back, blushing still, and nodded.

He took his time, mapping her soft skin with big competent gentle hands, following up with an eager mouth, learning the spots that made her gasp and move against him, or cry out sharply, or in one case flinch and slap his hand away. His own arousal increased as his touch spiraled inward, eventually reaching the juncture of her legs. Two fingers slipped between her lips. She was hot and wet and soft and she squirmed against his hand…

“Just a little bit to the left... AH!” she gasped. He’d found the right spot, evidently. He stroked her there, soft and slow at first and then faster and firmer than he’d thought a girl would like, listening and responding as she cried out her pleasure. Until she bucked against his hand, thrashing, her whole body moving as she came.

“Oh, god, oh Corso please fuck me now please,” she begged, reaching to pull him in. He was more than ready. She reached down to adjust his angle and he sank into her like coming home. She wrapped arms and legs around him urging him in, holding him tight. She felt amazing, and so right, and she was calling his name and moving with him as he thrust into her, her hands on his arms, her legs around his thighs, surging hard, clamping down on him when she came so that he came too, pouring himself into her. 

They kept moving, after, slow and sweet, little tremors playing over his nerves, rocking gently until he slipped out of her and they lay still, just breathing together. 

Corso moved to one side so he wouldn’t be resting his whole weight on her, and she rolled onto her side facing him and draped herself half over him, claiming him and keeping him close. He thought that was just fine, and reciprocated with an arm around her waist, as they drifted into sleep.


	4. Exchanging promises

He woke alone in the bed; that was a bad moment, but Neysha came back through the door with a bag that clanked before he could do much more than sit up and wonder where she was.

“Hey, Corso, didn’t mean to wake you.” She hadn’t bothered with clothes. He wasn’t sure she should ever bother with clothes, come to think of it; maybe they could just turn the ship’s thermostat up ten degrees or something.

She slung the bag onto her desk and leaned over to kiss him. “I cancelled today’s appointments.”

“What’s in the bag?” he had to ask.

“Juice, and some of those breakfast rolls we got, and some fruit. That ought to do us.”

“You hungry?”

“Thirsty, is all, but I thought you might want something, and I will later.”

There was only one right answer to a straight line like that, never mind he _was_ thirsty, now that she’d mentioned it. 

“Only thing I want’s right here, Captain,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her. That won him a pleased hum and a playful lunge that pressed him back down onto the bed, and it was a while before they got around to that juice after all.

When they came up for air (and something to drink) Neysha poured two glasses and brought one to him but left hers on the desk, going instead to her storage closet and rifling the drawers. “Tie, tie, tie... this’ll do.” She pulled out a narrow strip of brightly patterned fabric and held it up. Crossing over to the door, she opened it and fiddled with the outside latch, wrapping the strip of cloth over and around the handle, letting the ends hang free.

“What’s that for?” he asked, puzzled.

“You’ll see,” she said, closing the door again and locking it securely.

Sometime later, an impressively loud string of Mandalorian curses blued the air and woke them both from a doze. Corso pushed himself up against the headboard to listen, and Neysha rolled over and rested her head in his lap. Risha must have gotten in earlier; they hadn’t heard her arrive but they heard her voice raised now.

“Akaavi? What’s up?”

“The captain’s been kidnapped! Someone shot up the place and took her!”

“Oops,” Neysha whispered, snickering.

“The captain’s fine, she’s in her quarters, look!”

“What the hell does a piece of fabric on her door have to do with a hole in the couch and the captain’s clothing all over the floor?!”

“I don’t know, but she’s in there, trust me. The droid would have said something if she was in trouble. That tie means she wants to be left alone, she can tell us when she sees us, come on, Akaavi.”

The voices faded down the corridor.

“I forgot about the shirt,” Neysha said, quietly laughing. Corso smiled down at her and stroked her hair back from her face just for the sheer enjoyment of petting her.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “Being treated proper makes you itchy, doesn’t it?”

He could feel her shift and tense a little under his hands. The smooth look he recognized from a hundred deals came down over her face and she started to say “no…”

Corso wished her first response wasn’t to lie instead of saying something she thought he wouldn’t want to hear; that was something to work on, to let her learn she could really trust him. He frowned. “I’d rather hear the truth, Neysha, even if that’s harder.”

She sighed, the stiff fake mask fading from her face, and nuzzled his hand in apology. “Okay… Yeah. It drives me nuts. I’m not a lady; I’m not any kind of a lady.”

Leaving aside what she was or wasn’t, if his lady really didn’t want to be treated that way, she wouldn’t be. He’d done harder things. To make her happy, he’d do much worse.

“So… treat you more like a squadmate? I gotta say, I’ve never felt this way about a squadmate. Of course none of them were nearly as cute as you.” He smiled down at her where she rested with her head on his lap, looking up at him.

“Squadmate’s good, that works. Partner is better.”

“Partners it is then. And next time, partner, take a blaster when you leave the ship, okay?”

She gave him her trademark grin and a wink. “If it gets this reaction every time, I’m leaving the ship starkers from now on.”

He groaned and clutched his chest dramatically. “Go armed, Captain, it’s easier on my heart.”

“Corso,” she said, her tone one of warning, “I’m never not armed.”

“Never?” he asked, eyebrows going up in disbelief as he surveyed her lovely, lazy, nude body sprawled across the rumpled sheets.

She rolled over and reached down past the edge of the bed, coming up smoothly to a kneeling position with a brace of pistols in her hands, barrels pointed at the ceiling.

“Never,” she said smugly.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Point taken. I’ll keep in mind you’re deadly at all times, and try not to cosset you too much, since it makes you crazy. Promise.”

“For the sake of your heart, farmboy, I’ll wear a nice big obvious blaster when I go out, and try to tell you the truth, mostly, since you want it,” Neysha replied, face serious for once. She set the guns aside and crossed her heart. “Promise.”


End file.
